


Your Kiss's Got Me Hopin' You Save Me Right Now

by mrsyt31



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:37:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsyt31/pseuds/mrsyt31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/492876">I Used To Think We Were Forever</a> in which Harry overcomes Nick's inner monologue. Sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Kiss's Got Me Hopin' You Save Me Right Now

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Live Journal last week, but am just now getting around to posting here :)

Since they’d decided to give this ‘thing’ a shot, Nick and Harry have been pretty much inseparable. That’s not to say they didn’t spend a lot of time together before, but even more so now. They’d been out to dinner a few times, and Harry had all but moved into his flat, choosing to crash on his sofa rather than spend another night in the hotel room he’d inhabited since coming off tour in early July. And if maybe he’s stumbled into Nick’s bed once or twice, half asleep and seeking a cuddle, well, neither of them had thought to discuss it the morning after.

They’d been to Reading and hung out with Nick’s friends (Harry’s too, now, by default. Because really, _of course_ they were all completely charmed by Harry. Who wasn’t?) There were pictures of them everywhere; at shows, at clubs, at Liam-bloody-Payne’s birthday party, for fucks sake. And it’s a testament to how deep he might be in it for Harry, because Nick-fucking-Grimshaw would never under any normal circumstances be caught _dead_ at Funky Buddha. Ever. He likes Liam well enough (and the other boys, too), but some of his friends are hangers-on in a way that Nick himself has only been accused of in the past. But when it comes down to it, he thinks he’d follow Harry anywhere if he asked. 

He’s totally and _completely_ fucked.  
__  
They’ve been papped more in two weeks than Louis and Eleanor were the whole time they were in the States, and Nick’s not stupid, he knows it comes with the territory. He can’t imagine what will happen when and if people find out they are _actually_ dating. He wouldn’t trade it, though. Most people are quite nice, really, when they’re out to dinner in Primrose Hill, or when Harry tags along for one of his DJ gigs in the city. They’ve been quite lucky that they haven’t been discovered, because he’s finding it more and more difficult to keep his hands to himself when they are together. It also doesn’t help that everyone from London to LA knows _exactly_ who he’s talking about on air when he slips and says ‘my friend’ this, or ‘my friend’ that. They’re not exactly _hiding._  
_  
_ It’s strange, because as much time as they’ve been spending together, they haven’t done much more than snog and grope each other on Nick’s sofa, which is fine, because he enjoys a good handjob as much as the next guy, and Harry has _incredible_ hands. If he’s being honest, he’s a little nervous about going any further. It’s like, if they don’t actually _have sex,_ then it won’t be quite so painful when Harry changes his mind. And this is why Nick has never had a _real_ relationship, he thinks, because he’s never really had the nerve to put his heart on the line like that. He hates being vulnerable, and that is _exactly_ how Harry makes him feel with every smile, every shared laugh, the way Harry just curls in to him when they’re sitting in front of the telly at night watching the X Factor.

 

Harry shows up at Nick’s flat with his travel bag in tow, because he’s flying out to the States tomorrow and doesn’t want to make any other stops before he heads to the airport. Nick has a DJ gig at Paradise tonight, and he’s invited some friends along for karaoke, including Harry, which should be good for a laugh. Which it is, because, leave it toHarry to take it seriously. He’s a bloody popstar, isn’t he?

They end up having a blast, and Nick might go a little crazy on his instagram, but all in all it’s a good night. They all sing and they drink, and his friend Gary even manages to get a video of them singing Missy Elliot, and he’s _happy._ He’s trying not to think too hard on it, just enjoy the feeling while it lasts. 

It’s nearly four in the morning when they stumble through the front door of his flat, tangled together and scrambling to remove shoes and Nick’s jumper. Next thing he knows, Harry has him pressed against the wall with his tongue in Nick’s mouth. And yeah, they’d been drinking pretty heavily earlier, but Nick’s buzz wore off hours ago, and he can’t remember when Harry stopped drinking, only that it was well before he himself stopped. 

Harry’d been all over him in the car, rubbing Nick through his jeans and whispering filth in his ear, leaving him hard and desperate. Now, here he was, trying to guide the younger man to the sofa, but Harry wouldn’t have it. “Bedroom,” he murmured against Nick’s mouth. “Want you to fuck me.”

Suddenly it feels like all the air has left the room because Harry is dragging him by the hand, and he’s got this smug smirk on his face like he _knows,_ knows exactly why Nick has been holding back, purposely not letting things go any further. It’s not like he doesn’t want to, because, _fuck,_ of course he does. What the hell has he got himself into? Louis Tomlinson was right when he told an interviewer that Harry’s ‘a whole new level of charmer’. Everything about the young man exudes sex; his eyes, his hands, his mouth. _God,_ his perfect, cocksucking lips.

“You sure about this?” Nick sounds so unsteady, and he could kick himself, really, because _who is this boy who’s reduced him to an insecure mess?_ He wants to give Harry the world, wants to show him all the things he hasn't had a chance to see yet, but he’s still afraid to give up his heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks it’s already too late, that he did in fact put his heart in Harry’s hands a long time ago, and he’s just been waiting for the younger man to catch up.

Nick just stands there as Harry turns to open the blinds, letting the moonlight spill into the room. “Am I sure that I want you to fuck me?” Harry asks, turning back to face Nick. “Yeah. Wanted that for a while, to be honest. You’re well fit. But I don’t think that’s what you’re really asking.”

And dammit, he thought he was better at hiding his feelings, but Harry’s looking at him like he can see through every wall Nick has ever built to protect himself. He tries to say something, _anything,_ but he can’t seem to find the words, and it’s okay because it turns out Harry knows him well enough tounderstand. Nick gets it now, how some couples don’t have to speak, that there are things - the tiny things known only between them - that go unspoken, yet they are not unknown.

He pushes into Nick’s space, one hand curling around his hip as the other reaches up to cup his face, stroking the soft line of Nick’s cheek. He lets his eyes fall closed when Harry brushes a kiss against the corner of his mouth and presses their foreheads together. “It’s you I want, Nick. Not Louis, not Cara, nor whoever else the papers are trying to say I’m chasing this week.” And God, he knows this, knows all of Harry’s secrets, but the feel of his hands and the boy’s warm breath on his face is a reassurance he would never admit out loud that he needs. “I’m over _him_ , you know that. If I wasn’t then I wouldn’t be here with you right now, I’d never do that to you.”

“I just...” he tries, but Harry stops him, whispers _I know_ against his lips and kisses him again. He leaves a heated trail across Nick’s skin with his lips, punctuating each kiss with an endearment murmured in that husky, rough tone he has that makes the older man’s cock throb in his jeans. _More than a shag,_ he says surely. _I'm yours, need you,_ and _want you so much._

Nick lets his arm slide around Harry’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer, raising his arm so his fingers can tangle with the hand Harry still has resting on his cheek. It’s only then that he notices the cool piece of metal on the third finger of Harry’s right hand. “What’s this?”

“It's yours...I uh...I nicked it,” he stutters. “From your dresser, the other day. Is that alright?” And now, for the first time all night, Harry looks unsure, like Nick might scold him or something, which is ridiculous, really. 

He has an overwhelming surge of emotion when he realizes exactly what it is that Harry is wearing. “I bought this in that shop...the one in Manchester, last year when...but.” He’s never even worn the ring, bought it on a whim as something to remember how much fun he’d had with Harry that day when their friendship was still new. He’d just tucked it in the back of the drawer under a pile of socks, which makes total sense that Harry would find it, since he keeps stealing the DJ’s clothes.

“Yeah.” Harry doesn’t say anything else right away, just looks at where there hands are intertwined and strokes his thumb over the top of his knuckles. “Had it on all day, can’t believe you didn’t notice before now. I just...I thought I’d just take it with me, y’know, while I’m gone. Have something of yours to remind me.”

Nick knows that Harry is asking him for permission, if it’s okay to make this declaration between them, to his friends, however small it might be. And it is a declaration of sorts, Harry wants to belong to him, and the thought makes Nick giddy. He can feel a smile tugging on on his lips, and he laughs out loud, because really, he’s been so, so stupid. “I think maybe it was always meant for you, anyways,” he concedes, sliding his free hand up under the hem of Harry’s shirt, relishing the warmth of the soft skin there.

“Can we have sex now?” Harry asks, and Nick’s laugh is muffled where he’s nuzzled against his neck. 

He takes the younger man’s earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly before whispering, “I’d _really_ like that.”

Harry wastes no time stripping himself down to just his pants. He’s tugging on the button of Nick’s jeans as he starts maneuvering the both of them towards the bed. “Eager?” Nick chuckles, tugging his own shirt off over his head.

“Told you before, wanted this for ages.” Nick works a hand under the waistband of Harry’s briefs and squeezes his arse. He can feel the tremor run through Harry’s whole body as he groans, “Good...feels good.”

There’s a trail of their clothes on the floor and Harry is pulling Nick down on top of him on the bed, totally naked and, _oh._ It feels so good like this, skin on skin, cocks leaking just enough between them to give a little slick to their movements. Harry’s skin feels like it’s on fire and he is grinding against Nick in a way that creates the most delicious friction, and suddenly he can’t at all remember why they hadn’t done this sooner. He’s fumbling in the nightstand for some lube and a condom and Harry is nuzzling his face into the hair on Nick’s chest and groaning, loud and obscene and _fuck,_ he’s never wanted another person the way he wants him. It’s a little overwhelming and a lot more emotion than he ever thought he was capable of, but he needs Harry, needs him like air in his lungs, and he won’t let himself fuck this up.

His hands are trembling a little when he flicks open the bottle. It’s been a while and this is _Harry_ and he’s been waiting for this for what seems like forever. He feels the other man’s hand on his wrist, steadying him as he pours a small amount of the liquid on his fingers, guiding his hand down between his legs to the soft skin just behind his balls. Harry sighs softly, spreading his legs further in invitation as Nick starts massaging the tight furl of sensitive skin with his fingertips.

Slowly, Nick works his way inside, one finger at first, then two and three as Harry starts to rock back and forth, grinding himself down against the man’s hand. “You’re so lovely like this, babe,” Nick soothes, surprisingly calm considering how tightly he's wound right now. Harry’s skin is flushed all down his chest and there is a thin sheen of sweat covering his body and Nick thinks he’s never looked more gorgeous. “Look at you, all spread out for me...so much better even than I imagined.”

The sound that comes out of Harry’s mouth is halfway between a groan and a sob, his breathing labored the more turned on he gets. “Been thinking ‘bout this...so long...just, _fuck._ Want you...in me.” His fingers are tangled in the sheets and his eyes are on Nick, his gaze heated with lust and need. He still can’t believe that Harry is here, _in his bed,_ begging for Nick to fuck him. It’s like the best porn and Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one.

“Nick... _please,_ need you. God, just...want you inside of me.” He’s writhing under Nick’s touch now, and he’s so beautiful and all Nick can say is _Yeah, babe, yeah._  
_  
_ Harry’s fumbling with the condom, tearing open the wrapper and hastily rolling the rubber down Nick’s cock and slicking it up with lube. They are both desperate, on edge, as Nick let’s Harry pull him in for a kiss. It’s hot and dirty, and he moans around Harry’s tongue in his mouth when he feels the younger man grab his own knees, pulling them up and back and making room for Nick to nudge his way inside. 

He’s shaking with the effort to restrain himself, trying to give Harry a chance to adjust, but apparently he’s ready to go as he’s thrown one leg over Nick’s shoulder, the other wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. And _fuck,_ he feels so good, hot and impossibly tight around Nick’s cock, and he must have said that out loud because Harry’s answered _Yeah, so fucking good, babe_ is followed by a shallow circling of his hips.

It doesn't take long for them to find a rhythm, Harry's hand finding it's way between them to tug roughly on his prick as he chases his own orgasm. It's one of the hottest things Nick has ever seen, pushes him even closer to the edge he's been riding all night. He chokes out a _so close_ and _need you to come, Harry_ before the lad is crying out, hot spurts of white streaking his chest as well as Nick's. Harry's clinging to him tightly throughout the aftershocks, and he only manages about three more strokes before he's coming as well, nearly sobbing as he buries his face in Harry's neck. 

Harry goes limp beneath him, always turns into a wet noodle after he's come, so Nick's not surprised. It's different like this, though, naked and fucked out, wrapped in each other's arms. He reaches for the sheet to clean them up with, not quite ready to disentangle himself from Harry just yet. The boy ( _not a boy,_ he thinks. _He’s definitely all man)_ looks peaceful, his eyes closed and a blissful smile on his lips, and Nick can’t help but wonder how he’s the one lucky enough to have him.

“C’mere,” Harry rasps, his voice a little rougher than usual. “Snuggle me.” He pulls Nick to him, laying the man’s head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his back. And leave it to Harry Styles to be the kind of man who loves a cock in his arse, only to turn around and want to be the the big spoon, the protector. Nick thinks he might be a little in love with him. Okay, maybe a lot in love, but he's certainly not ready to say the words.

He hums in appreciation when Harry cards his fingers through his hair and mutters, "Stop thinking. Sleep." Nick leans up and kisses him once, chaste, on the lips, weaves their fingers together and does just that. 

***

He's not sure what time it is, but the sunlight is streaming through the open blinds and there's a warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock. He's pretty sure he should be woken up like this every day.

Then there's a hand around him and Harry is nibbling his way up the length of Nick's body, stopping only to lave over his nipples on the way. "Grim," he says softly. "Grimmy..." 

"Hmph?" us the only reply he can manage, still not fully awake.

Harry's teasing him now, biting at his earlobe and lapping at the bruise he'd sucked into the skin just behind Nick's ear only a few hours ago. His breath is warm and sends a shiver down Nick's spine when he whispers, "Nick... _Nicolas._ Wake up, love. Your _boyfriend_ wants you to fuck him senseless before he leaves the country for a week."

“Oh, does he now,” he rumbles, reaching a hand up to tug on _his boyfriend’s_ hair. _Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend._ God that sounds good.

He’s so fucked.

“‘m a bit tired, babe. You might have to do all the work,” he answers cheekily, just because he can.

He forgets sometimes that Harry knows exactly which of his buttons to push. He throws a leg over Nick’s waist, rocks forward _just enough_ to put a little bit of pressure on his half-hard prick and licks the rim of his ear. Whispers, “I could ride you. You could get so deep, fuck me so hard that way, I might even still be able to feel it on Thursday when I’m onstage, all week while I’m in rehearsals.”

And _fuck,_ now he’s not going to be able to watch _any_ of the video from that show without getting a stiffy. “You’ll be the death of me, Harry Styles,” he groans, pulling him in for a slow, dirty kiss, sucking Harry’s tongue into his mouth. When they finally pull away, he asks, “How much time to we have?”

“Niall says the car’s coming for me around 12, so...a couple of hours. I’ve already packed.”

“S’pose that’s enough time, then. You sure you’re not already sore?” he asks, smoothing his hand over the curve of Harry’s arse. “Might not be the best thing when you’re facing a 6 hour flight.”

Harry rocks against him again, and it’s so good, the catch and slide of heated skin slicked only with the tiniest amount of wetness where they’ve both started leaking. His eyes never leave Nick’s as he leans forward, tongue stroking his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth. There’s only an inch or so between them, their mouths brushing slightly when Harry murmurs, “Please? Need you one more time before I go.”

It turns into more of a slow burn, their bodies completely intertwined and grinding together. And when they finally come, Nick just before Harry this time, he thinks he sees stars. Harry just laughs, because apparently he’s spoken aloud again without meaning to.

They climb in the shower together to rinse off, but Nick leaves Harry to wash himself so he can go and make the lad some tea and a bit of breakfast. He needs the time, he thinks, to wrap his head around the fact that after two weeks of near constant physical contact, he’s going to be without Harry for an entire week.

Harry’s phone buzzes just before noon, letting him know his car has just pulled into the complex. Nick has been dreading this part, if he's honest. He's shit at goodbyes, even the short-term kind. Never knows what to say, afraid that even the smallest amount of time spent apart will change a relationship. This is even worse because they're so _new,_ and even with the 'boyfriend' declaration, the ring, _all of it,_ he's still a little worried. 

"What will you do without me around?" Harry asks, his shy smile seeming out of place after all the filthy things they've done in the last few hours. 

Nick just waves a hand and laughs, nonchalant, and says, "Oh, well, you know. We can't all lead the glamorous life of an international popstar." He's unable to meet Harry's eyes, overwhelmed and almost disoriented. This is the worst time for him to be having a crisis.

"Hey," Harry murmurs, pulling him in with a hand at the back if his neck. "I'm going to miss you like _crazy._ I'll drive you mad with all the texts I'm going to send. Will you miss me?"

It's the _stupidest_ thing he's ever heard. Of course he will. He's not sure he'll survive the week without him. "I'll probably just sit around here in my pants, mopin' about and drownin' my sorrows in a tub of Haagen-Dazs." 

Harry smiles, kisses him once softly, then again with just a bit more heat. "I want pictures," he says with a smile.

Nick smiles back, reaching out to ruffle the younger man’s hair. "Go! Be fabulous. Make Justin Beiber cry when you win all the awards."

"I'll call," Harry says, shouldering his bag. "Every night while you're on air. And I'll text every chance I get."

Nick presses their foreheads together, his hands bracketing Harry's face, and kisses him one last time, soft and sweet. "See you in a week, love."

***

He absolutely _does not_ squeal with joy when Harry crawls into his bed a week later, jet lagged and rough around the edges, proclaiming, _Honey, I'm home._  
__  
End  



End file.
